


Retrievers

by JustSkulkingAround



Series: The Adventures Of Russia [4]
Category: CountryHumans, Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Gen, M/M, statehumans - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:00:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSkulkingAround/pseuds/JustSkulkingAround
Summary: Russia must dig in and try to navigate the hostile entrails of the Revolution to bring his brother home. He leads his newfound family into danger and must juggle the risks to make sure all of them can get home safe.The Title and description are all works in progress, so you'll have to forgive it for looking a little rough.
Relationships: Russia/United States (Anthropomorphic)
Series: The Adventures Of Russia [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033056
Kudos: 5





	1. New Home

Russia stands back quietly, trying his best to ignore the over encompassing buzzing filling his head. He watches Dixie and America talking, America's hands waving around like he's explaining something.

Russia smiles faintly at the movements.

He can faintly hear the tones of their voices under the rining, but can't understand the words no matter how much he strains his ears. He backs up to the patio wall and slides back into a lawn chair. He turns to stare out at the empty trees hanging over the worn walking path. 

'Why did America invited me out here?'

'It's not as if I can understand what they're talking about.'

Russia sighs, watching the trees carefully. Bare branches sway in the wind, and he closes his eyes as the breeze caresses his cheeks. 

'At least it isn't too cold out here.'

Then he hears a familiar voice under the static. Its volume swells and Russia turns and sees America laughing gleefully. Russia finds himself smiling widely. He catches America's eye, and America turns to him, giving him a gleeful grin.

Russia's heart flutters in his chest and he looks away. His cheeks grow warm. He moves his eyes back to the path surrounded by dead debris. It has a welcoming, but strange feeling to it. Russia examines it a little closer but doesn't see anything immediately off.

He makes a mental note to ask America later.

He sinks back, enjoying the sunlight on his face. He looks up at the sky, a huge, light blue expanse spotted with wisps of white.

He's brought back to the present by someone tapping his shoulder.

Russia's head whips around and America smiles down at him. Russia smiles back in response.

America hands him a written note, and it takes Russia a moment to decode the swirling script.

"I talked to Dixie. He says he's sorry for getting so loud and mad," the note reads, "and I was able to convince him that you make me happy, so he wants to start over with you. Is that okay?"

Russia glances up at America's hopeful expression.

'He's been an a**hole...'

'But America wants us to get along.'

Ultimately, Russia nods, and America beams. Russia swallows back the nervous and jittery feelings in his chest. His cheeks grow hot and he smiles wide enough to make his cheeks sore. 

Dixie walks up from behind America, a sheepish expression on his face. Russia looks over curiously as America briefly explains something to Dixie. Then Dixie looks up with a subdued smile. Russia offers an experimental look and Dixie laughs.

Then Russia finds himself pulled into a hug and lifted off the ground. He stiffens and Dixie picks him up like a plank of wood. He's released as suddenly as he was hugged and Dixie laughs, putting a hand on Russia's shoulder. Russia watches with wide eyes.

Dixie starts to say something before shaking his head, and an embarrassed look flashes across his face. Then Dixie begins signing.

"(Sorry I was fighting. T-R-U-C-E?)"

"(Yes,)" Russia signs with a nod.

Dixie grins before turning back to America, releasing Russia's shoulder. After a moment, America nods at Dixie before turning toward Russia with a mischievous grin.

Then America loops his arms around the back of Russia's neck and pulls him down a little into a brief kiss. Russia's feels come back full force and he freezes out of surprise. America releases him and Russia stands back and blinks, wide-eyed. 

Dixie seems to shout, covering his face. America's face goes red and he scowls, swatting at Dixie's shoulder. Dixie throughs his head back and he laughs. Russia winces at the throbbing in his ears.

America notices immediately and pulls on Dixie's arm, signing something too quickly for Russia to make out. Dixie turns away and rubs the back of his neck. Then he waves goodbye and hurries inside. America seems to sigh and shakes his head with an exasperated look. 

Russia sits back in the chair he had been using and America drags one of the other chairs next to him. Russia looks away, pretending not to see it. America puts his head on Russia's shoulder, and their fingers intertwine. 

Russia breathes a sigh of relief, taking in the feeling of the present. America shivers, and Russia glances at him. 

'He looks cold. Maybe we should go inside.'

Russia stands up, and America looks up at him with a curious look. Russia pulls America to his feet and America seems to laugh. America stands up and spins around under Russia's arm, as if dancing. Russia feels himself giggle at the display.

America smiles and takes a step back, lifting Russia's hand before stepping back and taking Russia's other hand. Russia watches curiously and America smiles brightly. Then America begins to pull on Russia's arms, guiding Russia into a rhythmless dance of dizzying steps that trail off into the brown grass of the yard. America swings him around, and Russia stumbles to keep from falling over.

Russia feels himself laugh breathlessly, and he admires the childish glee on America's features. He pulls away from one of America's hands and begins to spin his partner. America falls into it, his face one of excitement and happiness.

Then America pulls back and they spin together, hand in hand. The world turns into a blur of colors and Russia leans back against America's grip, admiring the kaleidoscope around him. America's hand slips, and Russia tumbles back into the grass. 

Dust rises around him and Russia laughs, watching the sky. Then in his peripheral vision, he spots America crawling toward him with a smirk. Before he can do anything, America jumps on top of him like a dog, sprawling out across Russia's chest, pinning him to the ground. Russia grunts and begins trying to push America off. He can feel America shaking with laughter, and he falls back, trying to look annoyed, but he can't keep the dopey smile from spreading across his face.

America shifts and curls up on Russia's chest, and the two watch the clouds go by. America points up at them, and Russia can feel America's chest vibrating with what he assumes are ramblings. 

'I wish I could hear him.'

America hugs his arms around himself, shivering a little.

'Okay. Time to go back inside.'

It does make him feel more confident though, being able to stand the dropping temperatures, even if it isn't as low as the weather he used to handle.

Russia pushes America's shoulder, and America moves off of him and sits up in the grass. Russia stands up and dusts himself off before offering a hand to America. America takes it and Russia pulls him up. America leans close to him, and Russia kisses his cheek.

America tenses and stares up at Russia with a startled look, his cheeks turning bright red. Russia smiles proudly, and America looks away, lightly punching Russia's chest. Russia chuckles.

Russia leads America back to the house and spares one last glance at the walking path.

They walk inside, and Russia is surrounded by motion, and he can almost feel the air vibrate with life and sound. Russia shuts the door and locks it, and America pulls away and disappears into the crowd of states. The movement begins to get a little overwhelming, so Russia walks out of the room. He picks a well-worn book from the built-in bookshelf and settles at the dining table, reading quietly. 

The book is old, and the pages are crinkled and yellow with age. The margins are full of notes and scribbles in pencil and colored pens. Comments like "no, that's bulls***," next to paragraphs of history.

Kids run around him, shaking the floor with their footfalls, but Russia ignores them, letting himself be absorbed into the stories of a past he hadn't seen before. Eventually, smells from the kitchen pull him out of his seat. Looking around, he finds a small piece of colorful, folded paper on the ground under the table. Russia swiftly retrieves it and bookmarks his page. He closes the book carefully and puts it back where he found it, planning to continue reading it later.

He wanders into the kitchen to see Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi helping Dixie prepare what looks like a soup in two huge pots, the size of which Russia had only ever seen used in restaurants. Russia smiles, and Alabama waves. Russia waves back and walks out, looking for America.

The surrounding sounds had become a little clearer, but only in the way that he could tell if the volume rose from room to room.

He finds America chatting with Canada toward the back of the living room. America catches his eye and smiles brightly, waving him over. Russia smiles and walks over quickly, happy to be included. America continues his conversation in sign language, and Russia notices how America would purposefully slow down to give Russia a chance to understand.

Russia watches, trying to follow the conversation. Occasionally Russia would stare at the unfamiliar signs, and America would meet his eye, smile, and then finger-spell the term for him.

Russia smiles, and watches, slowly repeating the words with his hands. America would direct simple questions toward him for him to answer. Russia feels his heart swell with gratitude.

Russia tries his best to keep up, making short comments to get America to laugh.

Russia's hands begin to cramp up, and he's sure the scarring doesn't help. He walks around America and leans over him. He puts his arms over America's shoulders and pulls America to his chest, crossing his arm around America's chest.

Russia leans his chin into America's hair, and America's hair tickles his face. Russia leans onto America and smiles. 

America leans against him and Russia basks in the warmth.

Nagging worry resurfaces, and Russia sighs. 

'Discussing problems can wait until tonight,' Russia decides, 'bit for right now, I want to enjoy this.'


	2. Broken Glass

Russia sits at America's side, smiling softly. They sit side by side at the largest table beside the bookshelf, and Russia finds himself glancing back toward the book. The colored paper catching his attention.

Russia returns his gaze to his bowl when America suddenly elbows him. Russia looks up, a little startled, and America looks back with a mischievous smile. Russia scowls playfully and pecks America on the cheek, causing America's face to turn bright red.

America looks back down at his bowl, his face contorts into a pout. Russia smirks and goes back to eating, contently watching the activities around them. Kids talk and the countries were invited into groups of states and provinces. Russia sits back and enjoys the company.

Russia finishes, clears his space, and sits beside America, watching him laugh. Russia finds himself staring with what he's sure is a dopey smile. America turns and meets his eye, and Russia looks away, feeling embarrassed, one hand covering his mouth and cheeks.

America leaves to clear his space and Russia gets up to follow. 

America settles on the couch and Russia sits next to him, but not for long. 

America pulls Russia down, and Russia lays back, his head and shoulders in America's lap. Russia stiffens a little. America gently rubs Russia's chest before his hand trail up to Russia's hair. Russia relaxes at the tender fingers brushing through his hair. He closes his eyes and leans back, more than happy to receive the affection. 

America's hands gently slide over Russia's ears, and Russia breaths deep. Russia feels calloused fingers brush his cheeks, and he smiles.

A warm, static-y feeling fills his head, and Russia forces himself to relax in America's arms. 

Russia lets his mind wander.

Then something catches his attention and pulls him from his warm bubble of safety.

Sound.

Russia keeps his eyes closed, and he listens as the sounds around him start to get louder and clearer. It's still muffled by America's hands, he could hear. The tinnitus was still there, but the sounds around him return.

Russia hears America laugh. 

'I can hear you.'

Russia feels tears leak from his eyes. His smile grows and his bottom lip quivers. America moves his hands. America brushes away the tears without question. America shifts and places a feathery kiss on Russia's forehead. 

"It's okay," America says, and his voice rising above the ringing. 

More tears fall and relief shakes Russia to his core.

'I'm okay.'

'I'm okay.' 

'I'm okay.'

America pulls Russia up onto his chest, and Russia opens his eyes, looking through tears at the ceiling. Laughter spills from his mouth and tears trace his cheeks. America kisses Russia's temple and hugs him securely. 

Russia sits up, and America lets him. Russia turns around and smiles brightly, ignoring the tears that trail down his face.

"America..." Russia says, "you..."

"Russia?" America asks, his eyes wide.

Russia grasps America's face and leans in, pressing his forehead on America's. He looks into America's eyes.

"I can hear you," Russia mutters. 

It strange, not hearing his own voice, but it didn't matter. He knew the words he said, and America's expression made it worth it.

America's eyes shine. America tilts Russia's head up and kisses him before latching onto him, giggling in Russia's ear. Russia laughs and hugs him back. America pulls back and begins bouncing in place, flapping his arms and laughing, a huge grin spreading across his face.

Russia beams. America begins to ramble to him, his hands flying around with excitement. 

"I can't believe that worked!" America rattles off, "You-! And now we can talk again and..."

Russia sits back, listening to every word. He pulls his legs up onto the couch crosses his legs, watching with a smile. 

Then America hops up and grabs Russia's hand. America pulls him up and Russia stumbles to his feet. America drags him upstairs to their room, and Russia runs after him, holding his hat and laughing. 

America shuts the door and hops onto the bed, bouncing up in the air, his mouth running a mile a minute, telling stories and running off on tangents.

Russia sits beside him and laughs when he's bounced up by America's dancing around.

But soon, Russia finds himself glancing out the window, the ominous calling of the darkened path stealing his attention.

"Russ?"

Russia's head jerks a little and he spins around to meet America's gaze.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was just wondering what you're lookin' at," America says, poking his head around Russia's shoulder.

"The path outside," Russia admits, and America glances at him curiously.

"What about it? You wanna go down there?"

"Something isn't right about it."

America hums and takes furtive looks at the trees as they sway in the wind.

"I gotta say -as much as I don't really want to- you're right," America says, brushing his hair back with his hands, "I've been getting weird vibes from it too if that means anything."

Russia nods and stares out at the worn dirt walkway. Then America throws a jacket at him.

"I know you're 'Mr. Winter', but it's better to be safe than sorry," America says, pulling a jacket of his own.

Russia gives him a questioning look.

"What? We're gonna go check it out, see what's going on," America says, "Come on."

Russia sighs.

'Is this a good idea?'

America waits in the doorway with an expectant look.

'I should probably go in case something happens.'

Russia stands up and pulls the jacket on. America cheers and runs out of the room. Russia runs after him, a small smile on his face.

"Don't leave without me!" Russia shouts from the second flight of stairs.

"I will if you don't hurry up!" America shouts back in a playful tone. 

Russia tries to scowl, but a smile forces its way onto his face. He bounds down the stairs and slides to a stop in the kitchen where America is connecting a handheld radio to the larger receiver set up on the counter.

"Hey, are you two going somewhere?" Delaware asks, leaning against a bar stool.

"Yup," America says with a nod, clipping the radio to his hip, "we're gonna go out and check out the back path. We shouldn't be gone too long: half an hour, an hour at most."

Delaware nods before directing his gaze to Russia.

"So I hear that your ears are working again. Can you hear me?"

Russia nods with a smile.

A smile breaks out across Delaware's stoic face.

"Congrats man!" Delaware says before looking to America, "But Dad, seriously, watch the time. We will come looking if you're not back by 7:00."

America sighs with an exasperated look, which Delaware returns. 

"I can handle myself," America says.

"I know Dad, I know. But please, just... be careful. We already lost you once with this whole thing," Delaware says, his expression turning sad.

America sighs and walks around the bar. He grabs Delaware into a side hug and ruffles his hair.

"Daaaaaad!" Delaware exclaims, pushing America away.

"I looooove you too, Del-bear," America teases before letting go, "but for real kiddo, I'll be fine. We aren't going too far and I'll have Russia with me if anything happens. 'Sides, I also have a radio if all h**l breaks loose."

Delaware scoffs, "Okay, okay, but you didn't have to mess up my hair!"

"You say that like you style it at all," America teases with a chuckle before turning around, "Come on, let's go."

Russia follows America outside but feels weird being empty-handed. He spots the recycling bins by the side of the house and gets an idea. He turns and starts walking toward them.

"Hey Russ, whatcha doing?"

"I'm going to get something."

"Oh. Okay."

America follows behind him and Russia digs through the glassware until he spots what he's looking for. He smiles and picks up the empty liquor bottle.

"Stand back," Russia warns, swinging the bottle back by its neck.

Once America backs up, Russia smashes the bottom of the bottle. It scatters glass shards into the bin and grass. Russia picks up the pieces he can see and tosses them into the bin.

"Hey! Who all is back there?" Georgia yells, sounding annoyed.

"It's just Russia and I, sweetie," America calls back as Georgia pokes her head around the corner.

Georgia sighs and the annoyed look vanishes. She then disappears back around the corner and Russia hears the back door close. Russia spins the bottle around in his hand a few times.

"This will work," Russia says, examining his work.

"Cool. Now let's go," America says, taking Russia's hand.

Russia rolls his eyes a little at America's excitement, but he smiles none-the-less. 

'He's cute.'

But as they approach the opening, his smile drops. The unwelcoming feeling radiating from the tree line gets more intense. Russia readies the bottle and tightens his grip on America's hand. 

"Are you ready?" America asks. 

Russia nods, and they walk into the shadowy depths.

"How far does this go?" Russia asks, scanning the growing shadows for threats.

"I'm not too sure," America admits, sounding on edge, "it's not too long, but you'll have to ask Dix if you wanna know the specifics."

Russia nods.

Russia's hair stands up, and he stares around. Their walk slows to a crawl, and America summons his scythe. Russia searches for anything out of the ordinary when a spot of red catches his attention. 

It's high in the trees and surrounded by shadows. Then it blinks and disappears, and the branches that were behind it suddenly became visible. 

Russia tenses and pulls America behind him, releasing America's hand. They stand back to back without a word. The sunset casts a dull light around them, and America's magic glows.

Then the ground under his feet begins to shake. Russia stairs around when his eyes catch movement. Then a deafening noise rings out.

'A siren. But why-?'

America grabs his hand and begins pulling him back toward the house.


End file.
